Just living is not enough… one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENEnjoy life. There’s plenty of time to be dead.
More Hans Christian Andersen Quotes
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Happy domestic life is like a beautiful summer’s evening; the heart is filled with peace; and everything around derives a peculiar glory.
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Enjoy life. There’s plenty of time to be dead.
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Time is so fleeting that if we do not remember God in our youth, age may find us incapable of thinking of him.
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A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny.
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The naive was only a part of my fairy tales; humour was the real salt in them.
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I would give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to be a human being only for one day, and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars.
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The wiser a man becomes, the more he will read, and those who are wisest read most.
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She laughed and danced with the thought of death in her heart.
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Well, it’s not so easy to give an answer when you ask a stupid question!
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The sun shines upon good and bad alike.
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At first she was overjoyed that he would be with her, but then she recalled that human people could not live under the water, and he could only visit her father’s palace as a dead man.
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It is out of reality that the most peculiar tale of all is born … Some call me the Elder Granny, others – the Dryad, but my real name is Memory. It is I who sits on a tree that keeps on growing, and growing, it is I who reminisces and tells stories.
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It was clear to me, as I glanced back over my earlier life, that a loving Providence watched over me, that all was directed for me by a higher power.
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Farewell, farewell,” said the swallow, with a heavy heart, as he left the warm countries, to fly back into Denmark. There he had a nest over the window of a house in which dwelt the writer of fairy tales. The swallow sang “Tweet, tweet,” and from his song came the whole story.
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I have gone through the most terrible affair that could possibly happen; only imagine, my shadow has gone mad; I suppose such a poor, shallow brain, could not bear much; he fancies that he has become a real man, and that I am his shadow.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN